A Family After All. Kathy Altman

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       CHAPTER TWO

      “NOTHING CLOSE TO what you have in mind,” Ivy responded drily. Revulsion warred with disappointment. Why had it taken her so long to recognize that Gary was a sexist asshole? “Forget I said anything. You can pick up your last check tomorrow.”

      Wade, she realized. He’d been her buffer, and she’d taken him for granted.

      Why were epiphanies always so costly?

      She watched Gary stalk toward his truck. It was too dark to make out his expression as he looked back over his shoulder, but she could guess it carried an ugly promise of payback. Just what she needed. Would he try to talk Dell into leaving, too? God. Two men out of her life in a matter of minutes. Three if you counted Seth, who would no doubt cut her off completely any day now. She was on a roll.

      Her stomach gurgled again. Roll reminded her of cinnamon. And the steaming pile of cow crap that was her day explained why cinnamon reminded her of the unopened bottle of schnapps she’d stashed in the cabinet over the kitchen sink.

      She wheeled around and marched up the porch steps, chin held so high she tripped on the last one. She stumbled forward and fell into the screen door, one arm outstretched in a vain attempt to catch herself. The mesh fabric parted from the aluminum frame with a growling zzzzzzzzip.

      Oh, for Pete’s sake. She pushed herself upright and scowled down at the ruined door. This wasn’t something she could fix herself. And now Wade wasn’t around to take care of it. She’d have to call someone.

      Or maybe she’d just quit screen doors, cold turkey.

      Of course, cold turkey made her think of Wild Turkey, and the thought of bourbon reminded her she had a date with a bottle of schnapps.

      Thankfully, she could open it all by herself.

      Ten minutes later, Ivy decided that drinking alone, especially from a bottle covered in five Christmases’ worth of dust, was as pathetic as it was dissatisfying.

      She needed something else to distract her. A reflexive glance at the calendar yielded the perfect solution. How could she have forgotten her monthly investment club meeting? Her fellow members of Dollars and Divas would provide the perfect diversion.

      And chances were good the booze would be dust-free.

      * * *

      HALF AN HOUR LATER, after a hasty tuna sandwich and a conversation with Dell that saved her a return trip to the liquor cabinet, Ivy parked in the gravel lot belonging to Castle Creek Growers, a local greenhouse run by her friend Parker and Parker’s husband of less than six months, Reid Macfarland. At least, Reid would have been helping to run it if he weren’t serving his third and final tour of duty in Afghanistan. Ivy couldn’t imagine how difficult the separation must be, not only for the couple but for Parker’s daughter, Nat, who adored Reid. It hadn’t always been that way, for Nat or her mother. Reid had sought Parker out to apologize for his role in the friendly fire that had taken her husband’s life. Parker and Reid had ended up falling in love, and now Parker couldn’t wait to have her new husband home for good. She’d moved to Castle Creek a year and a half ago, and it had taken her a while to warm up to Ivy—to anyone, really—but Ivy had finally talked her into joining the local investment club, and Parker was now one of Ivy’s closest friends.

      Ivy hopped out of her truck and breathed in the heady scent of damp mulch and those ruffly red blooms Parker had once told her were camellias. The early-evening gloom was thickening, and an autumn chill edged the air. Ivy made her way along the concrete path that crossed the yard, connecting the empty gravel lot to a driveway crowded with cars. Seemed she was the last to arrive.

      Not that she should have been there at all. What she should have been doing was writing up a help-wanted ad, making phone calls and working up some kind of a schedule from hell for her and Dell. She’d simply have to squeeze that in sometime in the morning, between chores.

      Hesitating in the warm yellow glow of the porch light, she let the muted laughter and chatter and the pumpkin-pie smell of Parker’s signature muffins soothe her.

      Oh, СКАЧАТЬ